Love has trickled
down young pupils branches
to a thin howl.
It is planted in every vein
to keep the untidy mirth of wondering.
Everyone around me is crying to go home.
The dancers, the singers humming to be left alone and be done with.
Sulking in the bathroom stalls, migraine of weeping,
between the deep sobs and the road to forgetting,
I want to stop, to lie down
to scream out what my heart feels.
Behind me others wait to express their losses
all over the surfaces of stalls for hire.
They go in, they write about me.
They reveal secrets and gawk,
until the school closes and I continue on.
Walking in the Breakdown Lane by Louise Erdrich from Original Fire: Selected and New Poems
Wind has stripped
the young plum trees
to a thing howl.
They are planted in squares
to keep the loose dirt from wandering.
Everything around me is crying to be gone.
The fields, the crops humming to be cut and done with.
Walking in the breakdown lane, margin of gravel,
between the cut swaths and the road to Fargo,
I want to stop, to lie down
in standing wheat of standing water.
Behind me thunder mounts as trucks of cattle
roar over, faces pressed to slats for air.
They go on, they go on without me.
They pound, pound and bawl,
until the road closes over them farther on.
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